Why Did You Go, Johnny Damon?Why did you go, Johnny Damon? Why did you take the cash and run?Do you think in New York City you'll be having this much fun?They cut your hair and shaved your beardYou smiled and just said, "Thanks."And we don't love you anymore 'cause now you're with the Yanks

Perhaps they didn't tell you, perhaps you did not now.Left-center field's 450-plus. How you gonna make that throw?There's lots more gorund to cover. You're getting slower every year.And I bet by mid-July, you'll wish that you were here

Now, George he don't like losin' so you best be on your guard'Cause if you don't hit .300, life will never be so hard.And if you don't make the playoffs and win a couple roundsThe fans will cuss and swear at you and run you out of town

Why did you go, Johnny Damon? Why did you take the cash and run?Do you think in New York City you'll be having this much fun?You're out of sight and out of mind. Don't think that you'll be missedWe don't love you anymore 'cause we've got Coco Crisp

Weekend WarriorIce it down, stretch it out, wrap it up, gotta get ready. I'm a weekend warriorOne more game, one more day, one more swing and one more play for the weekend warrior

I don't just play because I look so good in polyester, I do it 'cause it makes me feel aliveAfter working all week long, I tend to get a little stressed but when I step out on that field, I feel all right

My wife says quit, my kids ask why, the coach says sit but I can't lie. I'm a weekend warriorIt could be my last, never know, one game down and one to go for the weekend warrior

At my age, I should be playing golf or sleeping late but I like to sweat and get dirtyI like to step up to the plate

Aches and pains, muscle tears, limping up and down the stairs. I'm a weekend warriorOn Monday morn, I can’t run or throw but six more days, I'll be ready to go. I'm a weekend warrior

Mendoza LineI'm mired in this awful slump, I need some luck to clear the hump or I'll be ridin' buses any dayI need a hit so bad that I could cry. The worse I do, the harder I try, that 90 feet looks like a mile away

I'll take a bloop, a flare, a 16-hopper, a lucky bounce or a Baltimore chopperJust get me 'cross that ol' Mendoza line. Of course, I'd prefer a frozen ropeBut a swinging bunt would give me hope. I gotta cross that ol' Mendoza Line

Now, Mario Mendoza, for whom this line is named was an actual big-leaguer for 686 gamesHe played short and second, a little third. Had quite a glove or so I've heardWhich was essential 'cause he barely hit his weight

Though known for his infield utility, he set the benchmark for futility, flirting with .200 all the timeIn '79, he tied an all-time mark for the most games played in a big league parkWith an average below the Mendoza Line

He made the playoffs only once and here's his stats: three games played and one hit in five total at-batsDo the math correctly and you will surely find, he's right smack dab on that Mendoza Line

So if you're struggling on the field or any part of life, think of that brave soul from south of the borderHe plugged and scrapped his whole life through, only to be linked to ineptitudeHe's a true immortal of a different order

It's the End of the Curse and We Know ItParody of It's the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine) by R.E.M.New lyrics by Howie Newman

That's great, it starts with a two-out walk, then a steal off New York's ace. Roberts stood at second base.Sox were down, three to none, everybody said they're done, Mueller up the middle, in came the tying runBoston pen wouldn't bend, Yanks never scored again. No panic, Leskanic, Fenway's getting really manicPapi took a big hack, the ball went way back into the night

In a New York minute, Sox are back in it, breathing down their necksFourteenth inning more winning, Yanks are spinning, Ortiz did it one more timeNext night, Yanks are tight, bloody sock, such a shock. Big Schill shutdown, Bellhorn downtownAll tied, what a ride, keep it going one more nightA-Rod tried slapping but the umps weren't napping and we're feeling pretty psyched

It's the end of the curse and we know it, it's the end of the curse and we know itIt's the end of the curse and we know it. And I feel fine

Midwest big dance, Cards had no chance, four straight in '04, Foulke came and shut the doorDerek Lowe three-and-oh, Manny took the trophy home, no more screamin' 1918The bats were a-blazing, the pitching was amazing. What else can you say?

When he was a Twin, it didn’t mean a thing. Then he joined the Sox and Doug Mientkiewicz really rockedDoug Mientkiewicz, he’s my favorite player, Doug Mientkiewicz, he’s the man, he’s the man

He’s kind to his mother and a former Gold GloverDoug may not make the Hall of Fame but he’s got 12 letters in his nameDoug Mientkiewicz, I can’t even spell it. Doug Mientkiewicz, but I sure do like to yell itDoug Mientkiewicz, he’s my favorite player, Doug Mientkiewicz, he’s the man, he’s the man

Blasted in the BleachersWalkin’ down to Jersey Street on a scorching summer dayHeading off to Fenway Park, that’s where the Red Sox play. The clock in Kenmore Square says almost 2We’re gonna sit way out in center field and this is what we’ll do

Let’s go get blasted in the bleachers, act insane. The sun, some beer and all those peopleWe can even watch the game. I don’t need no runs or hits just a six pack of SchlitzWin or lose, we’ll feel the same. It’s only a game

The stands are filling up and baby so am I. The batter hits a grounder but I’m flying highThere’s a double play, a stolen base, a fastball up and in and the batter he breaks his batI’ll drink to that

Don’t say we ain’t good fans. We even clean up our cansWhen the seventh-inning stretch comes, we try to stand upWe’re always nice and friendly and never throw our cups

The bases are loaded and so am I. There’s a screamin’ line drive and I can hear it cryThere’s a close play out at third and the coach jumps up and down and yells like a spoiled bratI’ll drink to that